


The Sinner and the Saint

by redwinehouse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Homophobia, Humor, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Romance, Smut, jim moriarty singlehandedly fights homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 20:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12154116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redwinehouse/pseuds/redwinehouse
Summary: A day out in London is briefly turned sour for Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty. As progressive as society is, homophobia still exists - luckily, so does Jim. In spite of this, James still has something fun hidden up his sleeve and it is positively sinful.





	The Sinner and the Saint

It was Sunday morning and Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty were walking down a street in London hand in hand, madly in love and completely cut off from the rest of the world. 

The two men were enigmas. Their minds were cut from the same cloth as Einstein and Plato. With only a thought they could crush a single empire or save a civilization. They were two sides of the same coin, one light and the other dark. Although they were once bitter enemies hell bent on the other’s demise, their obsession had grown into a co-dependency. Life wasn’t worth living without the other. 

So when Jim came back from the dead to see if Sherlock was still alive, the titans collided in a much different fashion. Rather than a gun to the mouth and a leap from a building, it ended with hands in each other’s hair and lips desperately pressed against another’s. 

Jim had not changed his ways. He was still the spider Sherlock had accused him of being and he would often manipulate Sherlock to the best of his abilities, but the detective was smart enough to catch him most of the time, and that was why Jim loved him. He would lie when he could, and Sherlock had given up on trying to convince him to dismantle his criminal network. Sherlock would often look up and see his lover engrossed in his phone, carrying out high crime like one would play candy crush. 

”What are you doing?” Sherlock asked one night 

Jim was lounging on the couch in 221B, as he was wont to do. His brown eyes that were shining so bright in the firelight shifted from his phone to Sherlock. With a sly grin he joked, “Crime City.” 

Sherlock had spit out the tea he had sipped. 

”You need to stop killing those children,” Sherlock said lowly. 

Jim began to swing their hands enthusiastically. “Noooooo. I don’t think I do.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He had to make _everything_ into a show. “I already turn a blind eye to an unacceptable amount of things you do. Can you stop being a prick just this once?” 

”I find it quite odd that people with a conscious seem to have more empathy for children.” 

At that Sherlock perked up. Stepping inside Jim’s mind was always enthralling. So when his partner offered his opinions, Sherlock was always all ears, even if he greatly disagreed. “Why is that?” he asked. 

”Well,” Jim said, looking ahead of him, “for some reason their lives seem to have more value than adults, which doesn’t make sense because they don’t contribute to society. All they do is scream, piss, and shit. At what age do you stop putting those ‘baby on board’ stickers on your car?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick of gum. “I don’t want to die either. Fuck you and fuck your brat.” Jim popped the gum in his mouth. He scrunched his nose. “Now I’m annoyed. I’m going to kill more of them.” His head lolled in Sherlock’s direction. With a sweet smile he said, “Thanks for the idea, Sherly.” 

Sherlock let out a sigh that could be heard around the world. “Good point,” he replied, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would sway Jim. He agreed with his opinion, but Sherlock drew the line at infanticide. He pulled Jim in and gave the man a kiss on the head. 

”Queers!” 

Sherlock felt Jim stiffen. “James, don’t.” He grabbed the smaller man’s arm firmly. Like his manipulative trait, Jim’s psychosis also made him incredibly violent. While this was no longer something Sherlock was prey to, everybody else who rubbed him the wrong way was still fair game. 

”Let go of me, Sherlock,” the Jim from the pool whispered. Sherlock immediately released his hold and backed up, trying his best not to stumble. It had been a long time since he had seen Jim this angry, and it made his hands tremble. 

The psychopath walked up to the man who had shouted the slur. He was a stereotype American bigot, dressed in old clothes and lacking any sense of hygiene. 

Jim stood in front of him, looking absolutely gorgeous next to the pile of trash. “James Moriarty,” he said with a soft smile, his voice as soft as silk. He held out his hand. “And you are?” 

The redneck spit on Jim’s hand. “Bud, and I’m not touching your hand, faggot.” 

Jim chuckled lightly, shaking the spit off. “Afraid you might catch the gay?” he asked pleasantly, clasping his hands in front of him. 

”I’m not catching no _AIDS._ ” 

At that Jim started to laugh harder, causing Sherlock to slink back farther. By now heads had started to turn. The charming breathiness of his chuckle had disappeared and a manic cackle had taken its place. 

”God, aren’t you just _STUPID!_ ” Jim shouted viciously. “Was it your mother’s brother who fucked her or her dad?” Suddenly, he was only an inch from the man's face, whose eyes had become as large as saucers. His whole body was shaking like a leaf. “Hellooooooooo?” Jim knocked on his forehead. “Anybody hoooome? I couldn’t get you to shut up a minute ago.” Jim’s face was now expressionless. Instead, his eyes became two black abysses filled with all of the cruelty, anger, and fear in the world. He pulled back and put a hand in his pocket. 

”See that tall glass of water of there?” He pointed to Sherlock. “The one with the black curls and the blue eyes that just won’t quit?” 

A rosy hue graced Sherlock’s cheekbones. Their relationship was young and Sherlock was still incredibly shocked to have the affection of _the_ James Moriarty. Verbal affirmation was always overwhelming and it made his heart flutter. 

When Bud looked at Sherlock, Jim continued. “While you are beating off to HBO, he and I are having _wild_ sex.” He slapped a hand over his heart and rolled his eyes. Leaning back, he let out a groan. When he straightened he cracked his neck. Faster than lightening, he grabbed Bud’s wrist. 

”Get the hell off me!” Bud yelled, trying to pull away. Very few people would guess that a man of such delicate stature would be as strong as Jim, but it was hard to escape from his vice-like grip. Although Jim’s weapons were his genius and cunning words, there was a reason he had survived as long as he had while he was on his own. 

By now a crowd had gathered. They were quietly whispering among themselves, trying to figure out what to do. Strangely, most of them watched in silent, frightened interest. 

Jim examined Bud’s hand, turning it over and tracing the lines on his palm. “Have you ever heard of the ‘Little Piggy’ song? It’s an old English nursery rhyme, but it has a round folk song index of 192917.” 

Sherlock’s chest swelled with pride as Bud grit his teeth. Moriarty's familiarity with every secret under the universe made up for Sherlock's lack of basic knowledge. 

Jim had a gentle, demented smile on his lips. His voice was as soft as a morning dove’s song. He took Bud’s hands and splayed his fingers out. 

”Get your goddamn queer hands off of me!” Bud snapped, trying to pull his hand away for the second time, but it was in vain. 

Jim tutted. “Not until I teach you this _queer_ rhyme. He took a hold of Bud’s thumb. “This little piggy went to _market_.’” With a sickening _crunch!_ Jim broke Bud’s finger, causing everyone to scream, but none more so than Bud. 

”What is wrong with you, you sick fuck!?” he howled, staring at his limp finger. It looked like a deflated latex glove. 

”Jim!” Sherlock shouted. He saw the horrified looks on everyone’s face. At least one of them had to have called the police. He was already running himself ragged trying to keep Jim off the grid and their relationship a secret, but at this rate, they were going to be exposed and Jim would be going to Jail. 

Jim held a hand up. “Daddy’s taking care of it, love. I’ll be there in a second.” He moved on to the pointer finger. “This little piggy went _home._ ” The second finger was snapped backwards and Bud began to cry. By now, Jim was snickering. “This little piggy had _roast beef._ ” The middle finger bit the dust. 

Bud’s hand had started to bleed. Sherlock had heard several people vomit and one man might have fainted. 

Now at Bud’s ring finger, Jim’s grin widened and his eyes shined. “Oh, I see you’re a single man, Bud. Does it bother you that us _gays_ are in a happy relationship while you’re all alone with no one to love you?” He crushed the last finger without a word. Jim dropped Bud’s hand and gripped his jaw between his fingers. “Anything else to say to me, Bud?” he asked. Bud shook his head. 

Finally, Jim pushed the man away. Bud fell to the ground and immediately vomited. As the bigot sat and cried in his own sick and blood, James Moriarty smoothed out his blazer. “It was nice meeting you,” he chimed with a charming smile before making his way back to Sherlock. The crowd parted like the red sea to let him through, afraid to bump into him and piss him off. 

”Hi sweetheart,” Jim breathed, taking Sherlock’s hand and kissing him on the cheek. “No man gets to call you names and walk away intact.” 

”I appreciate the philosophy,” Sherlock said with an amused smirk, looking down at the man who had just ripped apart a man’s hands now snuggled against his chest. “We need to leave in case someone calls the police. I can only come up with so many lies to take the attention away from you.” He kissed Jim’s forehead. 

”Oh,” Jim’s mouth dropped into an ‘o’ and his eyebrows shot up. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he grabbed Sherlock’s hand. “I want to go somewhere fun!” He began to pull Sherlock, causing him to stumble. 

”What are we doing?” he demanded, their hands still firmly clasped together. 

By now Jim was dragging Sherlock behind him. Looking over his shoulder he said, “Sherlock Holmes, I am taking you to church!” 

Sherlock pulled back, looking at his boyfriend with a furrowed brow. “You assault a bigot for spewing homophobic slurs and now want to walk your gay arse into a _church?_ ” 

Jim let go of Sherlock’s hand only to bring them up to his face. He curled his fingers into claws, looking like he was going to crush Sherlock's skull. He groaned in frustration. “Will you just _trust me_ you doofus!?” 

Sherlock straightened up, making himself taller. “Psychotic tantrum meltdowns will not help you in this matter.” 

Jim sighed, going limp like a deflated balloon. He hunched over and he let his arms dangle. “I’m sorry Sherlock,” he said mechanically. 

Sherlock scoffed before he turned on his heel and walked away. 

”Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” Jim apologized, grabbing Sherlock’s hand and pulling him back with all of his weight. “I swear on the life of Barry Gibb!” 

At this Sherlock turned around, a small, amused smile on his face. “Now I know you mean it.” 

Jim reached up and gently brought Sherlock’s lips to his. Both men were quick to tilt their heads, allowing the kiss to flow with more passion. Jim could feel the anxiety that had built up inside of Sherlock melt at his touch. Just when Sherlock was going to bury his hands in Jim’s hair, he pulled away. 

”No, no, no,” the criminal said playfully, wagging a finger. “Not yet.” He took Sherlock’s hand and gave it a light kiss. “Follow me.” 

Sherlock had his reservations about waltzing into a church while holding hands with a man. Society was progressing rapidly, but there was bound to be a handful of zealots who would make things extremely uncomfortable. After Jim’s confrontation with Bud, Sherlock wasn’t looking for any more trouble. But as he looked at how enthusiastic his lover was, he couldn’t say no. He would just have to trust James Moriarty. 

God help him. 

”Do you even know where you’re going?” Sherlock asked after fifteen minutes of walking. 

”Not a goddam clue,” Jim answered with a wolfish grin. “Just stop when you see a steeple.” They walked for a few more minutes before Sherlock noticed a white point. 

He shook Jim’s arm. “There.” He pointed at the building. 

Jim’s face lit up. “Nicely done!” Before Sherlock could blink, he was being wrenched so hard towards the church that his arm nearly popped out of his socket. 

”Calm down!” Jim only pulled him harder and Sherlock stumbled. By the time they reached the church, Sherlock’s chest was heaving. 

They stopped in front of a copper sign. ”We are not going in there,” Sherlock said sternly, his blue eyes falling onto the words “Orthodox Catholic.” 

Jim batted his concern away. “I’m Irish. I’m basically Jesus to them. Come on.” 

Sherlock chuckled as he was led through the large front doors. “You are about the furthest thing from Jesus on this entire planet.” 

Jim looked over his shoulder. “My skin might catch on fire when I walk in. Watch out.” Moriarty pushed the doors open and the morning air was flooded with the sound of an organ and chanted hymns. 

Sherlock’s muscles stiffened and he yanked Jim back. “Absolutely not!” he whispered fervently. “There is a whole room of devout Catholics listening to drivel and there will at least be a handful of them who would be more than happy to see us burned at the stake!” 

”God, I love it when you’re angry,” Jim crooned before nipping at his neck. 

”Get off of me, you imbecial!” The detective gave the criminal a good shove, causing him to stumble backwards. 

Jim caught himself almost immediately. He narrowed his eyes as he straightened his lapels. “Don’t do that,” he warned. His voice had gone dangerously flat. 

This time, Sherlock didn’t back down. “Stop acting like a child.” 

Jim tilted his head, his eyes boring into Sherlock’s. Although it went against all logic, Sherlock was convinced that he was reading his thoughts. Without taking his eyes off of his lover, Jim slowly reached for Sherlock’s hand and brought it to his lips. 

”This way,” he said softly, tilting his head to the right. Knowing better to complain, Sherlock kept his mouth shut and followed Jim. 

”What is this?” he asked. They had stopped in front of two connected booths, each one closed by a red curtain. 

The playful shine had come back to Jim’s eyes. “Confessionals. Catholics go in here and anonymously confess their sins to the priest and then every bad thing they did is okay. Pretty great concept, don’t you think?” He smirked. “Do you have anything you’d like to confess, Sherlock?” 

”I think you have enough for the both of us.” Jim was already dragging Sherlock into one of the booths. With a gusto, Jim closed the curtain. “What are you doing?” He raised an eyebrow. 

”Sinning in the house of God,” was the last thing Jim said before he crushed his lips against Sherlock’s. 

”Jim, this isn’t-“ Sherlock tried but the man was such a _good kisser._ ” Throwing caution to the wind, Sherlock began to unbutton his coat. His lips did not leave Jim’s for even a moment. 

Jim sighed, happy that Sherlock had finally lowered his inhibitions. With a growl, he pushed Sherlock against the wall, hard enough so that his head banged against the wood. 

”Ow!” 

”Sorry,” Jim breathed before he attacked Sherlock’s mouth. 

Time seemed to stop when Sherlock slipped his tongue into his mouth. He was quick to respond and parted his lips, immediately tilting his head. The kiss was hungry and desperate, as was their relationship. The smell of Sherlock filled Jim’s lungs – cigarette smoke and coffee. 

Sherlock let out a small moan when Jim weaved his fingers into his black curls, his fingernails dragging across his scalp and pulling at his hair. It wasn’t until Jim tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth that he began to claw at his boyfriend’s hair, its immaculate style unraveled. It made Jim look wild and it made Sherlock incredibly turned on. 

”Ooooh, what’s that?” Jim sang, pulling Sherlock’s head back by his hair so that his entire neck was exposed. He gave a heated bite over his throbbing pules followed by an apologetic kiss. His other hand had sneaked its way down to Sherlock’s crotch. “Little excited?” Jim whispered into Sherlock’s ear. 

Sherlock looked down and raised an eyebrow. “No more excited than you are,” he said dryly. 

Jim chuckled, appreciating his ability to still have a sense of wit while sporting a killer erection. He began to fumble with his belt. 

Sherlock’s eye widened. “What are you doing?” 

Jim snorted. “Writing a book. What does it look like? I’m going to suck you off right here, right now, in the house of God and it’s going to be really, _really_ gay.” Satan himself couldn’t look as devilish as Jim did when he smiled. 

”Jim, _no!_ ” Sherlock said frantically. “This isn’t a good idea!” 

By now Jim had the belt buckle unclasped. “Shhh, baby. Just think of the entire room of people just ten steps down the hall.” 

”That makes it _worse!_ ” 

Jim chuckled. “No, it makes it _fun!_ ” He leaned forward and gave Sherlock a chaste kiss. “Okay?” As fun as it was making Sherlock anxious, he wouldn’t do anything Sherlock wouldn’t want him to do. 

Sherlock swallowed and nodded his head. Jim’s face was flushed and his eyes were wild. If they weren’t so loud when they were together he would have fucked him right there. 

”Lovely,” Jim whispered before reaching down into Sherlock’s pants and grabbing his cock. Jim groaned. “Hello, old friend!” 

”Please don’t quote Eric Clapton songs while you’re handling my dick,” Sherlock quipped breathlessly. 

With a sickeningly expert hand, Jim began to pump Sherlock. He pressed his forehead against the other man’s as he worked him up. “Remember when we first met?” 

Sherlock nodded, his lips parted as his breath quickened. “Y-yes,” his voiced cracked. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I do.” 

Jim rolled his eyes. “I wanted to kill you soooooo bad.” 

”Mmhm…!” Sherlock was doing his best not to moan. The man had his eyes shut as he began to rock into Jim’s hand. 

”Even back then I thought you were cute. I still hated you, but you were incredibly pretty. It’s the eyes.” 

Sherlock nodded absentmindedly. His face had begun to flush. “Jim…I…” he said with in a strangled voice. 

”Yes, sweetheart?” Jim asked, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive glands, causing Sherlock to jump and let out a gasp. 

”I…ah…forgot.” 

Jim threw his head back and laughed. To Sherlock’s dismay, he pulled his hand away. As he began to undo the knot of his tie, Sherlock laughed. 

”Can’t risk ruining your £900 outfit by giving your boyfriend a blowjob?” 

Jim folded his blazer over his arm and placed it neatly on the bench next to them. “After you my clothes are the most important thing in my life.” He placed his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and languidly ran them down Sherlock’s chest as he sank to his knees. His brown eyes flicked upward. “You’re the only one I’ll get on my knees for,” he said heatedly. 

Sherlock wouldn’t be surprised if he came right then. 

His eyes never leaving Sherlock’s, Jim took Sherlock into his mouth _agonizingly slow_. Sherlock immediately put a hand on the back of his boyfriend’s head. It took everything in him not to push him forward. 

At the first stroke of Jim’s tongue, Sherlock was gone. He threw his head back and let out a strangled groan, clutching Jim’s hair. He was right, Sherlock thought as Jim began a steady pace, this was absolutely amazing. He could hear the organ play and murmured prayers while Jim completely defiled him, only separated by a thin, red curtain. Any second someone, maybe even a priest, could walk in and see Sherlock Holmes get sucked off by James Moriarty. 

Not only was this highly offensive in a church, it was against the law. 

”Jim! Ah…” Sherlock jumped as Jim took his tip underneath his tongue, something he knew Sherlock desperately liked. Jim hummed in amusement at Sherlock’s surprise, and it made the detective moan. ”Fuck…” Sherlock banged the wall with his fist. 

Suddenly, there was an influx of voices and both men stopped. 

The sermon must have ended. 

”Jim, don’t,” Sherlock warned, knowing exactly what he was planning 

”Don’t what?” Jim asked innocently, pumping Sherlock now that his mouth was off of him. 

Sherlock tried to look angry, but it was impossible when Jim’s face was so flushed and his lips were so red. His hair was mussed and he was so unbelievably _hot_ that it was almost offensive. 

”Nothing,” Sherlock finally said. The words barely left his lips when Jim was deep throating him. The only thing Sherlock could do was bite down on a knuckle and whimper. He clutched at Jim’s hair desperately, having to touch some part of him while he was making him feel this way. “Please get me off,” he begged. 

He must have said the magic words because Jim picked up the pace and Sherlock was seeing stars. Even though he heard a young girl ask her mom if she could have a piece of chocolate only a foot away, he still swore when he finally came. Ever clean, Jim had already moved out of the way, but continued Sherlock through the end with his hand. 

Immediately fixing his trousers, Sherlock slid to the floor to catch his breath. With his eyes closed, Sherlock sat there with his chest heaving. 

Jim had perched himself on the bench, his legs crossed so that his ankle was resting on his thigh. His chin resting in his palm he asked, “So how was it?” 

”Phenomenal,” Sherlock said, his voice deep. “You know that. You just want to hear how great you are.” 

Jim grinned. “Right again, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock opened his eyes lazily. “I love you.” 

”I know.” 

Sherlock hurled his shoe at Jim's head. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was such a joy to write. The beginning was so, so satisfying. I was cackling the entire time I wrote it.[If you liked this work, I do have a full story of our boys in the works.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12110109/chapters/27459420)
> 
> For the record, Jim _does_ love Sherlock, but I want to keep him in character as much as I possibly can, (which can be hard because he is already a little OOC because he is in a relationship) so I imagine that it's something that he would rarely say. But it is clearly expressed and goes unsaid.


End file.
